Wow, I totally haven't forgotten to work on this piece for almost two years! Definitely not, nope!

Okay, but in all seriousness, I'm here to stay. I don't have an excuse not to write. Enjoy the chapter.

"Be the change that you wish to see in the world."
~ Mahatma Gandhi

On their way down the wooden ladder from Fromm's tree, Shu couldn't help but quiver in excitement at the prospect of becoming an alchemist. For a long time, it had been like a dream, a shooting star: out-of-grasp and always fleeting.

Schreiber had effectively brought him to where he needed to be, and he felt a sense of gratitude towards the older man, who ambled down the ladder with him.

Once they had reached the ground, effectively snapping Shu out of his passion-induced high, Schreiber took him by the hand and led him away from the Father's tree and apparent meditation spot.

"You should be glad, you know," Schreiber hummed, stopping shortly to peer at Shu's short from. "Father doesn't accept many new disciples these days. People's values have changed a lot over the last few years, and he finds himself at odds with the younger disciples more and more as the rare new ones come in."

Shu kept silent upon hearing this, somewhat more appreciative of the fact that he was given this opportunity. Running away wouldn't have been this beneficial to him if he hadn't found this support group, he was sure of it.

"Regardless, I believe Father has effectively made me in charge of teaching ya, which is fine," Schreiber shrugged, gait slowing down as they approached another wooded area which was propagated with treehouses and wooden bridges across the large expanse of oaks. "I've been looking for a student of my own, especially now that 'm finished learning under my master and the pilgrimage to Xerxes..."

Shu was ready to continue walking past the set of houses, but Schreiber stopped him there with a patient hand.

"Ah, we're going to my house. A student lives in their master's house, those're the rules," Schreiber hummed, beginning to climb up another ladder hitched to the side of a small, sturdy pine towards the large treehouse pitted in the sky.

Schreiber was quick to pull Shu up with him, giving the boy little time to hold his belongings close to him to brave the trip upwards. Quickly, the pair ascended and Shu drank in Brother's abode:

It was a small shack, littered with papers and books while the faint odor of a library came to Shu's mind. A futon was inconspicuously rolled in the corner of the room, almost overwhelmed by the sheer volume of stuff that consumed Schreiber's space.

With a skip in his step, Schreiber set to clearing out a path in the stacks of books and headed towards the sole desk in the room, opting to shove some papers aside and to grab Shu's bag and unceremoniously dump it onto a nearby mass of books.

"It's a bit of a mess," Schreiber said, quite unapologetic. He scratched his head and eyed the single futon, a grimace growing on his face as he set to turn on the oil lamp on his desk, "Hmph, I wasn't quite prepared for ya. You can take the futon, I'll just take the floor, yeah? We can go out shoppin' tomorrow… "

Shu nodded complacently, eyeing the lamp with concern as the realization that they were in a room filled with rampant fire-fuel hit.

"Isn't that… dangerous?" Shu settled on asking, eyes wide at the new flame that flickered from the lamp.

"Eh, I haven't died yet, have I?" Schreiber waved aside Shu's concern, simply putting the oil lamp on one of the ceiling beams to mend the issue of the shack's lack of light.

Moving to sit at his desk, Schreiber pulled a specific piece of paper from the jumbled heap and pulled out a pen, flipping it around in his fingers and giving a cheeky green to Shu.

"A fountain pen, from those Amestrians. They're innovative folk, ain't they?" he asked, huffing a little laugh at the novelty of the pen. Suddenly beside himself, Schreiber added in an afterthought, "Er, settle yourself in, yeah? 'M working on a paper, and I wanted to finish that before taking on an apprentice… I wasn't perfectly ready to take on a youngin."

With a sigh, Shu nodded and quickly grabbed his belongings, retreating to the corner to the room and finally watching Schreiber write from his perch of textbooks and essays.

Somewhat bewildered at Schreiber's change in focus, Shu couldn't help but think this was going to be a long year ahead of him.

"Ich bin–"

"Ich heiße, Shu. Bin is too casual."

"Ich… ugh," Shu muttered, pulling back the pouch of his slingshot whilst aiming at a lone bird in the canopy of the forest. He and Brother Schreiber were alone this time, the older disciple opting to teach Shu "the basics" before he could even think about alchemy. Much like a certain Izumi Curtis, the disciples of Gate were incredibly adamant about training both the mind and body.

Of course, Schreiber was taking the opportunity to be a smart ass about the whole "learning Amestrian" part of it. Amestrian–German, apparently, wasn't meshing well with Shu, especially since he was barely grasping Xingese and holding onto his English roots at the same time.

Shu let go of the sling shot's rubber pouch and his stone missed the fowl by a long-shot. With a flutter of wings, his target escaped his line of vision, and Shu sighed with heavy disappointment.

Schreiber, who leaned against one of the many trees in the forest, goaded him on with a smug look, "Try again. With both things this time."

Physical training was a drain, to say the least. His body was too young to deal with the trauma training entailed, but his pure determination had drowned out all the reservations of the other disciples to the point that nobody opposed his wishes. Schreiber had the sensibility to work with Shu's stubbornness and put him to work on both fronts: body and mind.

Shu popped another stone into his slingshot and drew back, breath held in anticipation of another bird entering his field of vision.

"Ich heiße Shu," he breathed out, eyes snapping onto a moving target in the air. His fingers, pinched by the resistance of the slingshot's bands, pulled further back in a bid to strengthen his shot. His hands deftly followed the bird, waiting for it to land and–

In a flash, the stone leaped out of his weapon's hold and hurtled towards the bird, barely missing it and hitting the tree branch it was perched on instead. A panicked shriek resounded through the air, and Shu let out a frustrated sigh. Unconsciously, he tucked his cap down and fidgeted with the slingshot.

"Better," Shreiber complimented while he raised an eyebrow, eyeing Shu's despairing form in slight confusion. The man pushed off of his position on the tree and approached Shu with reprehension, "Though, it seems like it wasn't better enough for you."

"What do you expect, Schreiber?" Shu belted out in his shrill, young voice. Shu almost tossed his slingshot onto the ground, but barely kept himself together.

"We've been working at this for a month," Shu gritted his teeth, hiding his expression from Schreiber under his cap, "I have nothing to show for any of it. The Ger–Amestrian goes in and out of my head, and I can barely aim this godforsaken thing! And on top of that, I haven't a clue what's happening in this stupid mystery town!"

Shu puffed a little after his last words left him out of breath. His hands squeezed the slingshot to the point where he thought he might break the wood, and Shreiber kept looking at him with this calm and utterly infuriating gaze.

"Is that all?" Shreiber asked, tone almost bored. The older man lowered himself onto the ground, assuming a cross-legged pose as he sat at Shu's level. Somewhat quiet and beside himself, Shu found himself sitting as well after a few moments.

"Shu, it's fine to be frustrated with your situation. I'd say it's part of the human experience," Shreiber started, hands clasping and unclasping in his lap. He turned to face Shu with a furrowed brow, "However, it's what ya do with that frustration that makes or breaks that experience. Tell me, what can you do that will change how the world treats you? How can you change yourself to get what you want?"

"Aren't I already doing that… isn't the point of this to change my mind and my body so that I can get what I want?!" Shu all but yelled, hands fists once more. He ducked his head down, obscuring his shame from Schreiber's prying eyes, "I'm working to change myself, and I'm not getting anywhere. I'm trying to get ahead, to move on, but it feels like the universe is against me!"

"Shu, how do you know that your approach isn't just plain wrong?"

Schreiber looked at him intensely, gaze boring into his mind. Shu stood silent, grasping for a response while the forest tree leaves sang their song, swaying in the mid-day breeze.

"I–" Shu started confidently, his resolve breaking upon looking back at Schreiber's sober expression. Shu gulped, finally letting his slingshot fall soundlessly into his lap, "I don't. And… and that's what gets me, Schreiber. I'm so sure what I want and what I need to do, and I still don't know if I can get to where I want to be on time. That terrifies me."

Shu clenched the grass at his sides, face rife with tension. It was the bitter truth to his situation:

He had no idea where he was heading and whether or not it would be enough. There was already the lofty sense of responsibility heaved onto his shoulders by simply knowing the future, but to grasp that future… that reality; everything felt out of his reach.

The situation could easily spiral out of control. What if his knowledge wasn't enough? What if it was wrong to begin with? He wasn't supposed to exist, and that opened the door for many more inconsistencies.

And those inconsistencies add up. For all he knew, he was living in a reality where Elrics were never born. Or–or perhaps Hohenheim and the Dwarf in the Flask had opted to go in different directions, making his reality a far cry from the world he had read about.

Anything could happen, and here he was wasting his time playing with rocks and speaking tongues.

He was useless.

It was bitter, laying out all those thoughts and insecurities to scrutinize, but Schreiber was right. Irritating as the man was, he was right. Shu could very well be taking the wrong approach entirely, and he wouldn't even know better.

"There's no need to be pessimistic either, Shu," Brother Schreiber interrupted his train of thought, eyes pensive in the face of Shu's distraught expression. "To play the devil's advocate, there's very well a possibility that you are doing everything correctly and ya haven't given yourself the chance to shine. You are…"

Schreiber hummed to himself, his free hand stroking his beard and eyes squeezed shut in an attempt at focusing his thoughts. A few leaves scattered at a gust of wind that hit the pair, and Schreiber exhaled loudly.

"You are a strange child, Shu" Schreiber decided after a reflective moment, "I have never seen an ankle-biter with the drive to walk here alone and demand something from the world. I've never seen a youngster carry himself with such dignity and confidence. I have never seen a child your age willing to put aside their hopes and dreams for some cause far beyond his own understanding. From the way ya talk, I could almost believe you're talking from experience…"

"It feels like that," Shu muttered, his voice strained. It was easy to lie to Schreiber, his only confidant in this strange place, but only because he slathered his lies with truth, "It's hard to explain… and I don't think you could begin to understand, but–"

Schreiber halted him right there, raising a lazy hand to stop his words.

"I haven't learned a thing about this stupid mystery boy in front of me, to use your words," Schreiber smirked, and Shu could only cringe at his heat-of-the-moment wording being used by the older man, "Where he came from? I don't know. Who his family is? Anyone's guess is as good as mine. His favorite color? Hah, could be black for all I know!"

Shu couldn't help but chortle a bit at that, appreciative of Schreiber's ability to lighten the mood.

"Those are your secrets, Shu, so hold onto them tightly and when ya say them, mean them."

Schreiber turned away from Shu, gaze contemplative once more.

"The Gate works in mysterious ways," Schreiber spoke, eyes taking on a distant, glazed quality. "Whatever ya believe ya must do, don't let it take hold of your life. It may be a part of your life, yes, but you're taking it too fast, Shu. You're letting it take over your time and your childhood. 'M asking you to slow down."

Schreiber took on an imploring expression, his eyes searching in Shu's face for some sentiment of understanding.

Finally, Shu responded.

"I… I think I can try," Shu muttered, his lower jaw clasped by his hand. "Yes."

"Ah ah," Schreiber interrupted, a smile growing on his face as he began to lift off the dirt and pull back to his feet.

"Ja," Shu rolled his eyes, placing his palms on the ground and pushing himself up from his position.

He stood up and picked up his slingshot. With a quick breath, he was back to aiming in the trees, and Schreiber was leaning on the tree once more.

Everything was alright.

・・・・

"Do you know why I let ya in?" Schreiber asked, lifting up one end of the log they were supposed to haul to the marketplace for the local carpenter.

It was late in the evening, and the sun was beginning to set. The dirt road to Gate's trading post was silent and still, characterized by the crowded woods bordering it and the purple hue cast upon it by the sun's dying light.

It was calm and breezy like most of the days Shu found himself working.

Shu slipped his hands underneath the opposite end of the log and pulled up, lifting the wood off the ground with a considerable huff. He was careful to take his time, keeping in mind that conversation a month ago.

That month had taught him patience and dedication, and Shu's strength training was beginning to show its benefits.

Teeth gritted, Shu responded as he helped Schreiber sling themselves onto the dirt road and towards the city, "Not a clue."

The two started to shuffle towards the marketplace, which was a fair distance away from the disciple's camp. The Town of Gate was much less of a town than it was a black trading port, and the disciples strayed a modest distance away from the merchants and salesmen. Shu had been clued onto the idea that the trading port served as a means of gaining food and supplies for the disciples, which was why they tolerated the blatant materialistic tendencies of the local vendors.

"Well, it's something like this," Schreiber started, clearly taking the bulk of the log's weight into his own arms. Schreiber still babied him, making Shu take a smaller portion of the wood onto his shoulders, "Remember the dark tunnel?"

Strained, Shu could barely nod in response and keep lifting up his end. Breathe in and out…

"Well, that was something like a test," Schreiber commented, eyeing the cart ahead of them. It was a simple job, hauling the logs to market. They would simply wheel the wooden beams to the merchants and leave with a considerable pile of coins: a fair arrangement.

Finally, at the cart, Schreiber and Shu heaved the log over the cart's lifted lip and plunked it into the heap of other timber. With a quick wipe of the brow and a few deep and gratifying breaths, Schreiber felt it right to continue:

"It had a clear beginning and end, right? But only a few people can face their fears and look at the in-between. Few people are willing to risk their hides to get a glimpse at something they ran past. It's a show of bravery to go back and meet the eyes that watch, something Father Fromm wants in his students."

The two remained in silence for minutes as they grabbed opposite sides of the cart and began walking towards Gate. Laser-focused, Shu and Schreiber made their way towards the marketplace, speeding up ever so slightly at the sight of Gate's warm lanterns and the sound of bubbling chatter.

Upon meeting the shopping district, the pair weaved through the packed streets of Gate. More than a few vendors called out to them, haggling and shouting for sales, sales, and more sales, but Schreiber remained steadfast.

The lanterns rustled in the cold evening air as the market pulsed with an uncontrollable, almost erratic life to it. The tents and wooden stalls of the town were the only sources of stability in the continually moving crowd, but the merchants and their avaricious ways were like a poison to the unsuspecting men and women pushing the streets.

Upon reaching the carpenter's workshop, they unloaded the logs onto their flat ends and left promptly after Schreiber collected a satchel of coins from the carpenter, opting to hang out on the sides of the street and watch the crowd throb like a living creature.

"You know, I still haven't gotten my answer," Shu started, eyes catching onto a few unremarkable travelers and quickly moving on to the next. It was an interesting game, people watching. "Why is the town called 'Gate' of all things? It just doesn't make sense."

While Shu was somewhat aware of what the name referenced, he couldn't let that slip to Schreiber. It felt wrong to lie about his knowledge, but Schreiber had made his stance clear on Shu keeping his secrets well. He knew it had to be done in order to get the information he had been craving for the last few months, but he couldn't help but get a bitter taste in his mouth at the earnest expression it earned from Schreiber.

The only man with a true understanding of the situation was Father Fromm, and Shu knew he wasn't going to get to talk with the elder until he had mastered both the mind and the body for alkahestry classes. Only then could he have the chance to discuss these secrets, and possibly more.

Schreiber was his only choice, at this point. The other disciples had refused to talk to him for too long, referring to Schreiber as his sole mentor. It was infuriating, acting as if they hadn't heard the adage "It takes a village" ever before in their lives.

"Well, you know how it started. I told ya this when you first started lessons," Schreiber smiled, absentmindedly jingling the coins in the pouch. "The Philosopher of the West came to Xing, and Father Fromm was one of the lucky few to meet him as a young lad. He taught Father about the ways of alkahestry and the more unrefined 'Amestrian alchemy.' Father Fromm, however old he may be, still remembers every word he was told, but he latched onto one thing in particular."

"And that is?" Shu bluntly interrogated, tone suspenseful. Schreiber held a grin in his eye at Shu's curiosity and waved a hand to emphasize his words.

"The Philosopher spoke of a Gate which held the embodiment of all men. Whether that Gate was a metaphor or a real object, I don't know," Schreiber responded, expression discordant as he pondered the idea himself. A couple of yells passed through the market as a seller and buyer got into a spat, interrupting the two shortly before Schreiber could continue, "I want to say that Fromm himself has seen that Gate, but I have no proof. All I know is that Father was so touched, so affected by this 'Gate' that he named our society after it. He doesn't speak of it otherwise."

"You think it's alchemy? Alkahestry?" Shu prodded, eyes passing over Schreiber as he waited for his mentor to tell him more. With his youth, Shu was finding more and more that people were unwilling to give him the hard facts. Whether it was due to his appearance or overzealous demeanor of asking, he didn't know.

Pushing others to answer appeared to be the only way now.

Schreiber shrugged, unresponsive. They spent a few more minutes just gazing out into the marketplace, absorbed in the hustle and bustle of the city's streets. Finally, Schreiber patted him on the shoulder.

"We should head back," Schreiber turned, dragging Shu behind him. He headed onto the dirt road back to the camp, dragging behind him an empty cart.

With a huff, Shu swiveled on his heel and bit his cheek, bidding the gleaming lamps and atmosphere of the marketplace adieu.

Next time, he decided, I'll get answers next time.

・・・・

The door creaked open with a shuddering groan while Shu and Schreiber trudged into the treehouse from the ladder. Shutting the door behind them, Schreiber made a bee-line for his desk to continue his personal research while Shu stumbled to his futon and face planted into the soft, pillowy material.

"Good work today, yeah?" Schreiber grunted, turning on the oil lamp and placing it up on the beam once more, right where he always kept it. Shu had long abandoned the notion of fire safety and simply accepted that he would have to leap headfirst out the front door to save himself.

"Definitely," Shu groaned, shifting onto his back and leaning a weary arm over his face. He took in a deep breath and felt himself sink further into the futon, and he drowned himself in the sensation.

For almost an hour, the pair sat in silence, drinking in the atmosphere of the library-like abode. It was detoxifying to stay still after physical training (which was turning out to be more like chores the longer Shu stayed here).

"Who the hell is Father Fromm?" Shu asked, his languor paving the way for sudden, and possibly reckless, questioning.

"That's a loaded question, Shu," Schreiber responded absentmindedly, writing away at his parchment with his fancy, Amestrian-made pen. Shifting his tone, Schreiber quipped at him, "Where's this coming from? Did ya knock your head or something?"

"I'm serious," Shu deadpanned, his fatigue effectively snuffing out any comedic sense he had in him, "He seems to be some sort of magic man, but I haven't seen him and nobody's been able to say where he came from or who he is. It's a little bit suspicious to me, is all."

"Well, you got one thing right," Schreiber hummed, voice a bit softer, "Most people don't know a thing about the man. I know he was a student of Hohenheim of Light, and I know that he teaches the people of Gate alchemy. At some point, he founded this town, but that was God knows when."

"Pfft," Shu snorted derisively, "What haven't you told me yet, old man?"

"You'll never figure out the secrets of our cult leader, little brat," Schreiber joked, wiggling his fingers to emphasize his horrible sense of humor.

"You're bad," Shu remarked, eyes closing as he rolled back onto his face.

"Yeah, yeah, and you're worse," Schreiber replied back without missing a beat, "Go to sleep so I can get some work done."

"Only if you tell me how old the geezer is," Shu yelled, his voice muffled by the soft material beneath him.

"No idea," Schreiber countered, tone patient as ever, "Now sleep."

"Boo," Shu scowled playfully as he peeked from under his blanket.

They regressed into a sort of peaceful silence once more, and Shu couldn't help but feel that this whole apprenticeship deal wouldn't be as long as he thought.

Wowie, I hope that was worth the wait! Probably not, though. It was kind of a long wait... yeah...

I have a Tumblr for update reports, check that out on my main profile. I sincerely hope you enjoyed this chapter.